


scatter something new

by nikkiRA



Category: Fire Emblem: Fuukasetsugetsu | Fire Emblem: Three Houses
Genre: Anal Sex, Blow Jobs, Explicit Sexual Content, Hurt/Comfort, Light Bondage, M/M, Mental Health Issues, Nightmares, Praise Kink, Sharing a Bed, felix taking care of dimitri with sex because he's in LOVE, like very light bondage
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-24
Updated: 2019-12-24
Packaged: 2021-02-26 04:29:03
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,816
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21867541
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/nikkiRA/pseuds/nikkiRA
Summary: The war ended. Felix stayed. Dimitri wore the perfect mask of a king during the day, and then they went to bed separately, and then Dimitri would show up at Felix’s door. And then in between there were all of these moments, all of these times when Felix wanted to say --What? What did Felix want to say? What were words, especially his words, in comparison to all of these ghosts? Felix loved Dimitri like a part of his own soul, but how was he supposed to say that? How could his fumbling adoration stand in the face of the dead?
Relationships: Dimitri Alexandre Blaiddyd/Felix Hugo Fraldarius
Comments: 13
Kudos: 184
Collections: 2019 Dimilix Holiday Exchange





	scatter something new

**Author's Note:**

> for storm!!! i wrote you two fics because your prompts were *chefs kiss* so uhhhh happy holidays hope you like it have some porn

There is a knock on Felix’s door; he looks up from the paperwork he’s been poring over and sighs. When he opens the door Dimitri is standing there, dressed simply, a wretched look on his face. 

“I can’t sleep,” he says hoarsely. 

This is why Felix is still here, still in Fhirdiad. This is why he can’t leave. The war is over, but the ghosts won’t leave the new king alone. Felix would kill each one of them all over again if it meant they would leave Dimitri’s head. 

He doesn’t understand. Doesn’t understand being haunted by the dead, doesn’t understand Dimitri’s mental state, how he can be so good for so long and then turn into this. But Dimitri understands, for the most part, knows how to recognize his limits. He knows how to ask for help before he gets too deep. Felix does not -- likely will never -- understand, but he will do anything he can to stop Dimitri from going somewhere Felix can’t follow. 

The nights are the worst. They go to bed separately, always, but they always come together in the night, Dimitri knocking sheepishly at his door. Felix wants to tell him, wants to -- to keep him there, to tell him they should just go to bed together, should stay in Dimitri’s room, or anything. But he doesn’t know how to say the words. Doesn’t know how to tell Dimitri to stop pretending and just come home. So he stands aside and lets Dimitri in, lets him crowd Felix against the wall. He leans down and pushes his head against Felix’s shoulder. “I need -- I need --”

“I know," Felix says, lifting Dimitri’s shirt over his head. “Take off your pants and get on the bed.”

Dimitri nods and does as he is told. He’s soft still; it can take a while for him to relax enough, to quiet the incessant voices and allow himself to feel pleasure. Dimitri lies down with his eyes closed as Felix undresses himself. Then he grabs the cloth he keeps in his desk and lays it gently over Dimitri’s eyes, coaxing him to lift his head so Felix can tie it firmly in place. He runs his hands down Dimitri’s thighs, but Dimitri says, “My hands.”

Felix feels his heart drop. It must have been a really bad night. 

Tension starts to slowly drain out of Dimitri as Felix takes over. He lifts Dimitri’s hand and kisses the tip of each finger. Dimitri lets out a soft whimper, and Felix feels his cheeks burn. This is the only time he can be tender, is when Dimitri can’t see him. He hates himself for it. Hates them both, a little bit. Hates that this is the only place where Dimitri will let himself let go, and hates that he’s too much of a coward to tell Dimitri what all his clumsy kisses mean. 

He moves his lips to Dimitri’s wrist, mouths at his pulse, feels the heartbeat on his lips. The proof that Dimitri is here and alive. It is almost too much to handle; the steady rhythm of Dimitri’s beating heart makes something warm flutter to life in Felix’s chest, and he leans forward, kissing Dimitri firmly on the lips. Then he takes the other cloth and loops it around Dimitri’s wrists before attaching it to the headboard. It is tight enough to serve as a reminder to Dimitri that it’s there, but the thin fabric could be torn easily by nearly anyone, let alone Dimitri and his freakish strength. It gives him the illusion of giving up his control without letting him feel trapped. There’s another precaution in place, too -- if Dimitri said the word  _ Garreg  _ Felix would free him immediately. Dimitri has never said the word, not yet. Felix hopes it stays that way. He doesn’t want to do anything that might upset Dimitri. Not anymore, at least.

Now Dimitri can’t touch him, but he arches up into Felix with his whole body. Felix kisses him until Dimitri is relaxed and pliant, before moving his lips to Dimitri’s neck, sucking a bruise into the pale skin. It is always exhilarating, leaving marks on the King of Fodlan. Sometimes, in particularly boring meetings, Felix will look at Dimitri and remember all the marks decorating his skin. He’d stop if Dimitri ever asked him too, but he never has. Felix is pretty sure Dimitri gets as much of a kick out of it as he himself does. 

As he is kissing Dimitri’s neck, he works a hand between them, dragging his nails lightly along Dimitri’s thigh. It will be a while still before he touches Dimitri’s cock; he is still too deep in his own head. Getting right into it isn’t what Dimitri needs. 

It had taken a while for him to figure out what it is, exactly, that Dimitri needs. At first -- well, at first everything was a complete fuck-up, wasn’t it. The middle of the war, his father’s ghost staring him down around every corner. It was never supposed to be more than an easy way to get off and a fucked up way to assuage Dimitri’s guilt. It wasn’t supposed to ever be anything  _ more.  _

Except it was always going to be more for Felix. As if anything he ever did involving Dimitri could be casual. As if anything with Dimitri could be anything less than intense and all consuming. The man that Felix knew better than anyone -- Felix had loved him from the fucking beginning. 

The war ended. Felix came to Fhirdiad for the coronation, and he stayed out of fear. Because the idea of coming back to the capital a few months down the line only to find out the Dimitri had retreated into himself again was too much to think about. Felix didn’t know what he would do if he left Dimitri behind and came back to the boar again.

The war ended. Felix stayed. Dimitri wore the perfect mask of a king during the day, and then they went to bed separately, and then Dimitri would show up at Felix’s door. And then in between there were all of these moments, all of these times when Felix wanted to say -- 

What? What did Felix want to say? What were words, especially  _ his  _ words, in comparison to all of these ghosts? Felix loved Dimitri like a part of his own soul, but how was he supposed to say that? How could his fumbling adoration stand in the face of the dead?

_ I can hear her screaming sometimes,  _ he told Felix once.  _ I know what I did was right. I don’t regret killing her. But I can still hear her.  _

So what is love? What is love, compared to that?

“Felix,” Dimitri says, a whine from the back of his throat. Felix scrapes his nails along Dimitri’s other thigh and moves to kiss behind his ear. 

The war ended. Felix stayed. And the sex got bad, and then it got worse, and then one day Dimitri couldn’t get hard, and Felix knew that he had to come up with something. Something had to change before Dimitri became a ghost himself. 

So he went to Dimitri’s room, and he leaned in to kiss him, and he said, “Do you trust me?”

And Dimitri said yes with no hesitation, and Felix felt his heart ache. So he pushed Dimitri onto the bed, and then he took off his shirt and draped it over Dimitri’s eyes. 

“Felix?”

“Let me take care of it,” he said, placing a kiss to the center of Dimitri’s chest, hoping Dimitri knew that what he meant was  _ let me take care of you.  _ After a moment Dimitri nodded, and Felix tied the shirt behind his head. 

A few days later Dimitri showed up at Felix’s door with two pieces of cloth. “For my -- for my hands,” he said, embarrassed, at Felix’s questioning look. Felix had just taken the cloth and pushed Dimitri down. 

This is what they did. Dimitri came to his room nearly every night, and Felix was always able to tell what he needed. Sometimes it was just sex, but other times Dimitri needed more, needed to be taken care of. So Felix made it his mission to do just that. 

“You’re doing so good,” Felix mutters. Dimitri makes a stifled noise as Felix bites lightly on his ear. 

He kisses down Dimitri’s neck to his chest, running his tongue along Dimitri’s collarbones, and biting a path down to his navel, a map on his skin of everywhere Felix has been. He wraps his lips around one of Dimitri’s nipples. Dimitri, who is absurdly sensitive, sucks in a breath, and when Felix reaches down to pinch the fleshy part of his thigh, he can feel him semi-hard. 

“That’s it,” he says. Dimitri’s hips jerk and Felix looks up and watches him grab the metal bars. It creaks worryingly under his grip, and Felix has the brief thought that the furniture in Fhirdiad clearly hadn’t been constructed with the Blaiddyd line in mind. 

Felix moves to the other nipple, teasing it with his teeth as he rubs gentle circles behind Dimitri’s knees. Dimitri rolls his hips, chest heaving with shallow breaths. Felix loves him with a ferocity that would be hard to believe it hadn’t lived inside of him for twenty odd years. He kisses back down Dimitri’s stomach, mouthing over the fine blond hair, sucking marks into the top of Dimitri’s thighs. 

“Felix,” Dimitri says, voice little more than a whine. He is getting impatient, so Felix drags his mouth to Dimitri’s cock, licking up the side before wrapping his lips around the head. Dimitri groans and lifts his hips, but Felix pulls back. 

“You have to be patient,” he says quietly, taking Dimitri’s cock in his hand and kissing the underside. “You’re doing so well, Dimitri. I’m going to take care of you, okay?”

“Felix --”

“I’ve got you,” Felix says, trying to sound reassuring. “Do you trust me?”

“With everything,” Dimitri says, and fuck, Felix almost tells him right there, feels the words on his tongue --  _ I love you. I love you. Stay with me.  _

“Then let me take care of you,” Felix says, before taking Dimitri into his mouth again. This time he lets Dimitri push deeper into his mouth, wrapping his hand around the base as he relaxes his throat and takes as much as he can. Dimitri jerks his hips up and Felix chokes; Dimitri is muttering apologies as Felix pulls off, drool dripping down his chin. 

“It’s okay. Dimitri.” When Dimitri does not stop Felix places his fingers over the king’s mouth to quiet him; Dimitri sucks them into his mouth, and Felix swears under his breath. With his other hand he reaches down and palms his own cock, closing his eyes and letting out a breath. He takes his fingers out of Dimitri’s mouth.

“Dimitri. Are you okay?”

“I need you,” Dimitri says, which is notably not an answer. 

“Dimitri --”

“Please,” Dimitri says, and even if his voice is weaker than usual, he sounds completely sure. “I need this.”

Felix trusts him. He leans down and kisses him, and Dimitri’s kiss is almost rough; he is completely hard now, grinding up against Felix’s leg. Felix reaches down and wraps his spit covered fingers around Dimitri’s cock. 

“Felix, please,” Dimitri says, as Felix kisses his jaw. Normally Felix liked to go slower, to really unwind Dimitri, to please him as much as possible, but he can tell from the way he’s gripping the headboard, the way he’s moving his hips and the way he kisses that tonight needs to be different. 

“Okay,” Felix says, kissing him before reaching over to grab the oil he keeps in his side table. Perched on Dimitri’s thighs, he coats his fingers in it and then slides a finger inside of himself. He’s neither slow nor gentle, eager to have Dimitri inside of him, and Dimitri certainly isn’t helping with the way he looks like this, open and trusting and at Felix’s mercy. Felix works himself open, quick and rough but thorough, and then he slicks Dimitri’s cock with the oil. He kisses Dimitri then, open mouthed and messy, before sinking down on Dimitri’s cock. 

Dimitri moans and Felix swears; he gives himself time before he moves his hips, fingers curling against Dimitri’s chest. He can’t see Dimitri’s eye, but he can see the way his jaw is clenched, see him fight to stay in control by letting himself be out of control, by letting Felix set the pace. Felix fucks him slowly, leaning down to place his mouth over the beginnings of a bruise on Dimitri’s neck; Dimitri hisses as Felix bites down on the tender spot. There will be an impressive mark there tomorrow. Felix will likely stare at it the whole meeting and not retain a single word. 

He adjusts on top of Dimitri, shifting until each thrust takes his breath away, and then he wraps a hand around his cock. He doesn’t take his eyes off of Dimitri as he jerks himself off, riding Dimitri’s cock at a steady pace and watching the way Dimitri’s knuckles have gone white from gripping the bars of the headboard so tightly. It doesn’t take long like this, with the build-up, with the feeling of Dimitri inside of him, with the way he keeps moving his hips and moaning. He comes on Dimitri’s chest, biting his lip to stop himself from crying out, and then he leans down. 

“Fuck me,” Felix says against Dimitri’s lips, and with what is almost a  _ growl  _ Dimitri immediately does; his hands remain tied but he moves his hips at a brutal pace, and Felix can barely hold himself up as Dimitri all but slams into him. 

“Felix,” Dimitri says, and despite the way he’s fucking Felix his voice is almost a whine.

Felix kisses the shell of his ear and says, “You’re incredible, Dimitri. You’re fucking incredible.” His voice is rough and shaky, thick with how much he means the words, and Dimitri’s rhythm falters before he lets out a strangled cry and comes. Felix is oversensitive to a degree that is almost painful, and he winces as he climbs off of Dimitri. He tries to ignore the feeling of Dimitri’s spend running down his thighs as he unties the cloth on his eyes and wrists. 

“Let me get a washcloth,” Felix says, heading over to the basin in the corner of his room. He cleans himself up first before grabbing another cloth and wetting it. 

Dimitri has his hands pressed over his face, and he doesn’t move when Felix wipes him down. Felix throws the washcloth in the general direction of the laundry and then lies down beside him. Dimitri shifts, then, turning onto his side and pressing his face into Felix’s hair. 

Felix waits until both of their breathing has evened out before he finally speaks. 

“Are we going to talk about it?”

Dimitri wraps an arm around Felix’s waist and sighs. “I had a dream,” he says, and Felix feels, absurdly, relief. Relief that Dimitri is only seeing his ghosts when he sleeps, that they do not haunt him in his waking hours, that he isn’t seeing or hearing things. “You won’t want to hear this,” Dimitri warns. Felix entwines their fingers and squeezes, hoping the action says what his words can’t:  _ I want every part of you.  _

“It was your father,” Dimitri mutters into his hair, and Felix tenses. “He was… angry at me. He said he needed more, that her head wasn’t enough.”

“That’s how you know it’s not real,” Felix says, running his fingers through Dimitri’s hair. “My father would have never said that. He supported you in everything you did.”

“And then I saw  _ her  _ again, but she was a young girl, the way she was when she first came to Fhirdiad. And she asked me if it was worth it and then she stabbed herself with the dagger I gave her.”

“Fucking hell,” Felix mutters. Dimitri pushes closer into him. “It’s not real, Dimitri. I promise.”

Dimitri sighs, and Felix feels goosebumps erupt where his breath hits Felix’s ear. “I don’t deserve all that you do for me,” Dimitri says.

“I don’t do anything for you,” Felix says. It’s a lie, but it doesn’t feel like it. All that he does for Dimitri, he does because he wants to. 

“You should be at home,” Dimitri says. “I know you stay in Fhirdiad for me.”

Felix thinks about this. “It was never much of a home to me,” he says. It’s true; even as a kid he felt caged in by the Fraldarius estate. 

Dimitri shifts onto his back, turning his head to look at Felix, who props himself up on his elbow and splays his fingers on Dimitri’s chest. 

“Do you ever resent me?” Dimitri asks. “For taking everything from you?”

“Don’t be absurd,” Felix says, annoyed. “My father and brother made their choice, don’t take that away from them. You didn’t take, you were freely given.”

Dimitri smiles softly at him. He takes a strand of Felix’s hair and twirls it around his finger. “Will I ever be worthy of you?”

Felix rolls his eyes. “Shut up.”

“I mean it. Who would I be without you, Felix?”

Felix scoffs. “Who do you think I’d be without you?”

Dimitri pulls him down and kisses him. Felix tucks himself into Dimitri’s chest and kisses back, warm and secure in the way Dimitri holds him close. 

Dimitri tucks Felix’s hair behind his ear and then says, “I should go.” 

Felix drops his head onto Dimitri’s chest. 

“I don’t want… I don’t want to overstay my welcome.”

Dimitri’s hand is on the back of his neck, thumb rubbing circles. Felix lifts his head; he sees the soft smile on Dimitri’s face and makes a decision. 

“You don’t have to.”

Dimitri’s thumb stops. “Do you mean it?”

“Well it’s stupid, isn’t it? That we keep -- keep pretending. Keep going to bed separately, when we always end up here.”

Dimitri takes a shaky breath. “I didn’t want to push.”

“Stupid,” Felix says again. “Haven’t you realized I’m not fucking going anywhere?”

Dimitri laughs, a self-deprecating sound. “I am not an easy person to be with,” he warns. “I do not know how to make the nightmares stop.”

“Yeah, well,” Felix says, blushing slightly and looking across the room, too embarrassed to meet Dimitri’s eye. “I cling in my sleep.” It’s an embarrassing remnant of his childhood, of the vulnerable baby he used to be; he’ll latch onto anything in his sleep, wrapping himself around the person, or pillow, or on one memorable occasion a sword, and not letting go until he wakes up. It’s why he refused to share a tent with anyone other than Sylvain during the war -- Sylvain was used to it from their childhood, and as mortifying as it was to untangle himself from Sylvain’s long limbs in the morning, it was a better alternative than Ashe or Dedue. 

Dimitri grabs Felix’s chin and turns his face so they are looking at each other. “I remember,” he says. He looks at Felix with such love and affection that Felix can barely stand it. It’s like looking into the sun. Felix has to look away. 

“Sometimes,” he starts, but he cuts off. Dimitri gives him a moment before he grabs Felix’s hand and presses his lips to the knuckles. 

“Tell me,” he says. 

Felix buries his head in Dimitri’s chest, finding it easier to talk. “I think my father would be happy with my decision,” he says. “I don’t know if I would be much of a Duke. But I think… I think this is where I’m supposed to be. With you.” His face is burning, and he can’t bring himself to look at Dimitri. “Someone has to keep you in line,” he says gruffly, but Dimitri doesn’t fall for the redirection. He rolls them over so he is perched over Felix, hair falling around them; Felix lifts his hands and pushes Dimitri’s hair back out of his face. 

“I love you,” he says quietly, half hoping Dimitri won’t hear. Judging from the way Dimitri’s eyes widen, he’s not that lucky. 

“Felix --”

“Don’t make a big deal out of it,” he mutters. Dimitri laughs softly. 

“No promises.”

“Don’t make me regret it,” Felix says sternly. Dimitri leans down to kiss him, slow and deep. 

“I love you,” he says against Felix’s lips. “You must know that. You must know how lost I would be --”

“Not nearly as lost as you think,” Felix says. He rubs his thumb over Dimitri’s lower lip. “Come on. You need to sleep. When was the last time you slept through the night?”

Dimitri lies back down. “Not since long before Duscur.”

Felix grabs the blanket and drags it over them, turning onto his side and burying his face in Dimitri’s neck. “Then let’s go to bed.”

“Felix,” Dimitri says, voice hoarse. “I haven’t slept through the night in… it can be bad. The nightmares --”

Felix kisses him. “I don’t care, you moron. I have never cared.”

“You say that now. You might have a different idea when you wake up to screaming.”

“I don’t  _ care _ .” Dimitri looks like he wants to argue, still, so Felix presses his lips to his collarbone, bites down lightly. “You’re okay. You’re here, and you’re alive, and you’re mine. Okay?”

Dimitri has his eyes closed; Felix reaches up to try to smooth out the lines on his forehead. “I am so afraid to sleep,” he says quietly. Felix feels his heart break, feels anger spike through him. What he wouldn’t give to fight back Dimitri’s demons with his bare fucking hands. 

“Tell your ghosts that they can’t have you,” Felix says firmly. “You are  _ mine,  _ and they can’t have you.” 

Dimitri’s smile is small and weak, but it is there. Felix has and will fight wars for that smile. Dimitri leans over him to blow out the candle and then settles back down, pulling Felix into his chest and burying his nose in Felix’s hair. 

“We’re moving to your room tomorrow, though,” Felix mutters. “You have three fireplaces.”

Dimitri laughs at that and presses a kiss to the top of Felix’s head. “All right,” he says softly.

He doesn’t know how to help other than to tell Dimitri over and over that Felix is  _ here,  _ and they are together, and if Dimitri wakes up in the night ten times Felix will soothe him back to sleep eleven times. He doesn’t know if it’s what Dimitri needs, but it’s all that Felix knows how to give, and he will give it willingly, with his whole heart. He is not and has never been good at this, but he  _ loves,  _ and he will not pretend any differently. Not anymore. 

**Author's Note:**

> fe twitter: felixfraldaddy  
> personal twitter: aravenlikea


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